


Emperor of Death

by stealingpotatoes



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Corvo the Black (Dishonored), Emperor Corvo Attano, Gen, HIGH CHAOS ISN'T REAL IT'S OK, High Chaos Corvo Attano, VERY VERY high chaos, i am SORRY but i had COOL idea and i had to try and explain it!!, very high chaos, you know when you write a thing expecting it to be like 300 words and then it's Not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealingpotatoes/pseuds/stealingpotatoes
Summary: The man at the front of the group raised his sword and pointed it at the black-clad figure on the throne. “Corvo Attano, you have committed terrible crimes against the Empire of the Isles and its peoples, and your reign of tyranny must come to an end. We--”“Are you done?” Corvo asked flatly, maybe even sarcastically.Dissidents always think they'll succeed when they try to stop Corvo the Black's reign. Always.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Emperor of Death

**Author's Note:**

> Was talking about Corvo the Black in the [Dishonored Server](https://stealingpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/632074461812850689/join-the-duki-luki-mitosis-lab-a-really-cool) the other day, and my brain shat out this cool scene, so then today I tried my best-ish to actually write it out to explain it to the DH server... then I sorta wrote a whole Thing.  
> Tw: blood, by the way.

A group of rebels burst through the grand doors of the Imperial throne room like a whale-oil explosion, all wielding swords and knives and whatever weapons they’d been able to lay their hands on. They’d fought their way through the Tower, fought through every level and every guard, and now they were here. At long last. They were ready for whatever came at them. 

Their blazing fury seemed to dissipate somewhat when not a single guard ran to stop them. There were no guards in the throne room at all. No bodyguards, no protection, just the Emperor, alone on his throne. No-one else. 

No light shone in from the dark night outside. The only light in the almost-dim room was artificial, only whale-oil and candles. One chandelier lay smashed on the floor, by the withered vines and deep dark stains. 

They continued on and walked the length of the throne room carefully, wary of hidden guards. Yet nothing burst from the shadows to stop them. Their footsteps were the only sound in the otherwise silent room; the walls watched on with the same deafening silence trees held when a rabbit was making its petit way into a hunter’s trap. 

They ground to a slow halt a small way from the throne. The group’s eyes all flitted to the statue at the bottom of the throne’s dais in turn, but kept their focus on the man they were here to end. 

Corvo didn’t so much as sit forward, let alone stand up to defend himself. He merely raised a single eyebrow at the squad of armed rebels, flat expression otherwise unchanging. Death’s metal face lay on the arm of the throne beside him. 

The man at the front of the group raised his sword and pointed it at the black-clad figure on the throne. “Corvo Attano, you have committed terrible crimes against the Empire of the Isles and its peoples, and your reign of tyranny must come to an end. We--”

“Are you done?” Corvo asked flatly, maybe even sarcastically. 

The leader seemed somewhat taken aback by the interruption, and some of the group shared confused and nervous glances. How easily their confidence faded. 

Corvo raised an eyebrow, “Are you?”

Nobody said anything. 

Corvo sighed wearily, still sitting back in the grand chair. Then he clenched his hand into a fist and a blue light glowed from the dark lines on his hand. Within the blink of an eye, he was standing up just a step in front of the throne, his legendary sword extended and dripping blood onto the carpet. 

The throne room was silent. 

The dissidents dropped to the ground abruptly. Some fell to their knees first, gasping for a breath that would never come. Some tried to move before they dropped. Some were long-dead before they even hit the cold hard floor. A pool of red began slowly blossoming around the group. 

The leader, alive and yet unharmed, glanced around him, sword still raised. Realisation dawned on his face and his arm slowly fell to his side. He was the only one left. Distinct fear took realisation’s place and claimed its rightful seat on his features. 

The walls continued to watch in silence, the trap springed and the rabbit dying, unable to escape.

The man looked back to the Emperor, still standing in front of his throne, now wiping his bloodied blade on the inside of his sharp black sleeve. 

“Do you want to finish what you were saying?” he asked nonchalantly. 

The leader stood frozen, mouth valiantly trying and failing to form any kind of sound. 

Corvo finished wiping his blade and tilted his head to look at this man, standing at the head of an army of still-warm corpses. Then he made his way down the small steps of the dais, sword still lying eagerly in his hand. He was hardly lethargic, but there was no rush to his movements, no haste. He had all the time in the world. 

He stopped just a stride away from the man, who had not let himself look away from the dark Emperor ahead of him. Closer, the man had to crane his neck somewhat to look the grand Emperor in the eyes. His dark and unnerving gaze -- now so close, so real -- sent a whole new shiver of fear up the man’s spine.

“You tell everyone you find of what you saw today,” Corvo started, as if uttering a simple command, like he was telling a servant to get some tea, “You tell them how your allies were no challenge for me. You tell them that it doesn’t matter what numbers, what weapons, what armies they bring to the Tower, they won’t take the throne. Do you understand?” 

The man stayed frozen.

“Do you understand?” Corvo asked, the barest hint of annoyance entering his voice. 

The man nodded profusely.

“Good. Now go.” 

The man stumbled and fell back onto the slick blood of his comrades. He barely even looked at his soaked hands in disgust before pushing himself off them and scurrying off to the doors he had burst through so very confidently short minutes ago. 

Corvo watched him leave with disinterest. No-one was ever so much as a challenge for him. He didn’t keep as many guards in the Tower as had been kept before, but still most were too afraid to even _ talk  _ about coming up here and trying to face him. Good. Fear was good. A blade was simple, and did its damage briefly. A quick wound, that would lead to death or an old scar. But fear? Fear wormed in and took up permanent residence in the mind, leaving no respite. Fear fed on fear, and only grew stronger. Not like respect, that diminished at the slightest provocation. People didn’t respond to respect or admiration -- every betrayal and plot against his family had taught him that -- they responded to something to be afraid of, to the face of their own mortality.  _ Corvo the Black _ and  _ Emperor of Death _ they called him now. A symbol of fear. Far better than what they would call him behind his back before, when he had tried to be a  _ ‘good man’ _ . 

Corvo didn’t spare a glance at the bodies. He turned back to the throne, and his eyes lingered on the statue at the base of the dais. 

He gave Emily a comforting smile. He didn’t like seeing her so angry, but this was the best way to keep her safe. That was his duty. He would fulfill it until his dying breath. She had always been too in-danger as the Empress, too out in the open. But now she would be safe, protected, forever by his side. He would carry her burden and look after her. 

Corvo the Black, Emperor of Death, settled back down on the throne, waiting for whoever thought they could fight their end next. The walls watched in silence. She watched in her silence.  The hunter lay the trap out once again, readying it for his next prey. 

**Author's Note:**

> I did sorta go for writing quicker above writing better lmao; it's not meant to be Good, just to get the idea across. I lowkey didn’t get the coolness down properly BUT i’m sure you can imagine I’ve written it better.  
> Anyways! High chaos isn't real! We do not See It! I am deeply sorry I wrote this!  
> Random but I also made a [hella high chaos Emily comic](https://stealingpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/627532468485046272/high-chaos-version-of-this-im-sorry) a while back. You know, in case you just... like high chaos somehow.


End file.
